Mmmmm, perhaps I didn't have ENOUGH rainy thoughts. LOTS & LOTS & LOTS of rain to put out that bloody fire.

When I was a kid we lived in a wooded valley. We named all the pathways to this or that road or wherever. Forest fires were fairly common, so we had Burnt Path Number one, Burnt Path Number two and so on.

Whenever there was a forest fire we kids would go along "to help". The firefighters were really nice guys 'cos they'd pull out a young silver birch, give us each one and send us to the outer edges of the fire and show us how to beat out the very small flames there.

We'd go home absolutely black and firmly convinced that we'd helped to put out the fire.